


too much

by zukofenty



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Blue Spirit/Painted Lady dynamic duo raids, F/M, Post-Canon, pothead!Firelord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:20:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23746720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zukofenty/pseuds/zukofenty
Summary: The one where Katara breaks Zuko’s heart.“You broke the Avatar’s and the Firelord’s hearts all in the span of a week and they’re still pining after you? Your pussy must be magnificent.”
Relationships: Blue Spirit/Painted Lady, Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	too much

**Author's Note:**

> hi i love u!

“You broke the Avatar’s and the Firelord’s hearts all in the span of a week and they’re still pining after you? Your pussy must be magnificent.” 

Katara groans. “You’re annoying.” 

Toph has the audacity to punch her, even when she’s sweaty and pathetic and smells like depression. “I am very much aware of that. Yet your _only_ personality trait seems to be reiterating that fact.” 

They’re in Toph’s room in the Fire Nation palace, languidly laying about. Not a care in the world, still recuperating months after the war. Katara always hears angry dissent in the streets of the Fire Nation and she wants to leave, wants to go home. Where the people didn’t look like seconds away from spitting on her. Where she didn’t have to deal with the _drama_ that came with being a heartbreaker. 

“ _A whore,_ ” Toph would clarify, much to Katara’s dismay. 

Sometimes it eats away at her, seeing the longing looks Aang sends her way. She wants to tell him _it’s not that deep_ , but she thinks it’s the heat making her cranky. 

In the months since the war’s end, Katara and Zuko were inseparable. Basically attached at the penis, or however the saying goes. She’s sure she understands the romance scrolls when her heart wants to rip out of her chest at seeing just a slight smile from him. It was dumb, but love was dumb. Somehow, it felt deeper than that. Like something you can’t shake, no matter how hard you tried. Romantic or not, Katara wasn’t sure. But she was 100% certain that she was meant to stay in Zuko’s life, even if it broke her. 

He holds her hand in his calloused palms and Zuko’s almost positive that Katara’s the only person he’s capable of being this gentle with. 

“I-I just can’t.” Katara swivels on her toes, hand coming up to fiddle with her necklace. She sees out of the corner of her eye, Zuko’s nodding. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to. She thinks—no. She _knows_ he knows her the best, knows her bad habits like he knows how to breathe. 

She looks to the moon, the beautiful thing. Katara thinks she wants to cry, cry for Yue. Cry for all the women in her life she’s had to lose. Somehow, she thinks the breeze that wraps around her body was meant to calm her angry, fat tears. “I’ve lost everything that mattered in my life. You know that feeling? That fucking feeling when you wake up and feel like _what’s the point anymore_? When you wake up, and feel yourself take that first breath. And you wish you hadn’t?” 

Zuko doesn’t need to say anything. Sometimes, she thinks it’s worse that he knows her so well. That he knows the perfect words to say, or when she needs the time to just say what’s on her mind. “Do you know how hard it is for me to love you?” Katara’s a mess, she’s sure her snot is acting up by now. _God_ was it about to get gross and emotional. “Sometimes I wish I could talk to her, my mom. Is it bad I want to ask her _is it wrong for me to love someone, whose people fucking took you away from me_?” 

“Katara,” he begins. Zuko wants to say _things will be different_ . _I’m the Fire Lord, I’ll go to hell and back for you. I’m fighting for my people to change. I want them to love you, your culture the same way I do._ But that isn’t reality, it isn’t their reality. 

People don’t change. No matter how hard you want to try. They just fucking won’t. Not when the years of hatred were flaunted freely. You think a teenager in charge will change that? He’s still got Fire Nation, coursing through his blood. He wants to think that Katara’s image of the enemy is no longer his face. But he’s still Fire Nation. And he can’t change that. 

“You know, I wish we could just be _us_ .” She sniffles, and sinks into the embrace Zuko wraps her in. “You can be just the guy who did something so _fucking_ stupid for me, and I can be just the girl who will never forget, even if I tried. That sounds like a good love story.” He rolls his eyes when she noisily sniffles. “You took _lightning_ for me. Are you dumb? Is that dumb bitch juice you’re sipping on all the time?” He just _knows_ that the jab she delivers to his forehead is gentler than what she usually serves up. 

“Ouch,” he rubs at her hand, the nail mark on his head throbbing in protest.

“I still hate the Fire Nation. With every bone in my body,” Katara grits out. She thinks it’s unfair. How pretty it was. How the Fire Nation could inflict cruelty, but the land was still, tranquil, and beautiful as centuries before. Like all those books said, like what everyone insisted. She’d never admit it out loud. How could she say she liked anything in the Fire Nation? 

“Me too,” Zuko quietly admits. She knows he’s thinking the same thing, and she wants to say she hates it. Hates the fact that their hearts and minds were practically inseparable. Permanently woven together, a bond that wouldn’t dare budge. 

She looks to Zuko, and her heart tightens. It’s every bit painful as she anticipated. 

“I think I need to be on my own. Figure my shit out.” She promised herself she wouldn’t cry when he hugged her, holding her like she was going to slip between his fingers and slink into the night. A precarious thing, she was. She goes on her tippie toes to wrap her arms around his neck. “I just don’t want to belong to anyone. I’m not anyone’s to have. I’m just—I’m just me.” She breathes out a sigh. “ _I don’t want to belong to anyone_ ,” she insists, repeating to ensure its clarity. Whether it was to herself, to Zuko, to the world, she wasn’t completely sure. 

Zuko nuzzles his face into her hair. “Then don’t.” 

//

“Will you stop blowing shit up!” 

Katara ponders the question, just for a minute. “No.” Even if she laughs, much to his chagrin, she worries. His dark circles look deeper, hands frail and shaky as he scratches irritably at a scroll. It’s been months, years even since she’s stepped in the Fire Nation palace. She’s never sure with time, never kept track. 

“You said you’ll be supportive of me, no matter what!” Zuko sends her a glare. “Hey, if you keep looking at me like that I’ll leave! Just like what your hairline is doing.” 

His gasp is audible, cutting through the expansive conference room. “How dare you!” He’s patting at the top of his head, ensuring the follicles were still intact, before pushing at his bangs to cover his forehead. “She’s just built like that naturally!” 

Katara’s laughing, a rich thing that causes her whole body to vibrate. “Right. Receding hairlines are _completely normal_.” 

Zuko slams his hand down on the table. “I can’t help genetics! _You know that!_ ” An accusing finger is jammed in her direction, and at that point, Katara’s fallen to the ground, clutching her stomach. He lays on the ground with her, sprawled out ungracefully. “If my head advisor saw me like this, I’m sure he wouldn’t hesitate to filet-o-fish me.” 

“Fuck him! He sucks.” 

He holds her hand, and it feels more like _home_ than being in the Fire Nation. “Agni, couldn’t they just let me live in an obscure farm in the middle of nowhere and write shitty plays that will never be produced all day. My name wasn’t even on the _Fire Lord sign up sheet_. Who the fuck put it there!” He rubs his hands over his face. “God, I smell like dragon spunk.” 

Katara takes an experimental sniff. “I wish you were wrong.” 

Zuko scoffs. “I’m going to end it all, right here, right now just because you said that.” 

“I wish you would!” Katara takes Zuko’s hand in her’s. When they were teenagers it might’ve felt like something more. Yet, they were on the cusp of adulthood. 20 somethings that were meant to turn thundering heartbeats into dull acknowledgement. He didn’t like being the exception, when those unrestrained feelings threatened to pop up again. Then again, when you know someone, loved someone as much as they loved each other, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t meant to be conventional love, they just weren’t made for conventional. A simple hand hold couldn’t be misconstrued for them. It was an _I got you_ , no matter what. 

“You know what?” Katara questions. 

“What?” He peers over to her, while she stares at the intricate ceiling. 

“Your life. That shit sucks badger mole dicks.” He breaks their grip to shove at her. 

He blows a tuft of hair out from his eyes. “Yeah, well. There’s nothing I can do about it. Got to see this fucker through until hopefully someone assassinates me.” 

“You mean until you die, right? Of natural causes and all,” Katara’s tone is the slightest bit nervous, there’s mirth hidden, though. 

“Nah. Assasination seems like a cool way to go down. Hopefully they give me at least a heads up a few hours in advance, so I can go out in my favorite robe.” He stands up, hands cupping his mouth in a mock microphone. “Make government official assassinations normal again!” 

Katara snorts, rolling her eyes. “Stop being so fucking dramatic!” She couldn’t hide her joy, even if she tried. 

“No.” He looked dumb, arms crossed in an expensive robe that Katara was sure cost more than some homes. “I’ll stop being dramatic when you stop...what was it? Oh right. _Blowing shit up_.” His fingers do the air quotes thing condescendingly, and Katara gets up to slap at his hands. 

“Says who!” 

Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose. “Me!” 

“Boo, you slut!” Katara yelps. 

“Did you just call the Fire Lord a slut?” Zuko looks even more tired than when the conversation began. 

“Sorry, would you have preferred ‘colonizer’?” 

Zuko narrows his eyes into angry slits. “No.” 

Katara snorts. “That’s right! If you’ve forgotten, you’re _my_ bitch!” For all intents and purposes, it was painfully true. Disgustingly true. For every factory or corporation that dares pollute the water, they would _mysteriously_ explode to the ground, head executives barely alive to see its demise. Zuko vaguely remembers hearing in a meeting that it should be the army’s top priority in finding the culprit. He thinks he threw the report away. 

“I can’t keep covering your ass, you know that,” Zuko chastises, even when he knows Katara’s first reaction is to bristle at any constructive idea. 

She sighs. “You know that’s a lie.” 

“I know.” 

She turns to face him, a gentle smile on her face. “Come with me, tonight.” 

He feels his heart swell. 

//

“What vibe do I give off? Sexy? Cool? Oh! How about _lethally handsome_?”

“Danger. That’s the vibe you give off. You scream red flags, Hepatitis C, and _danger_ .” Katara mock gags when the stranger steps closer to her vicinity. He might’ve been two feet away, but his breath was at least seven feet long. Zuko doesn’t say anything, but she _feels_ him holding back a laugh. 

The look she sends him as he’s grabbing their drinks makes him shuffle even faster. “Hey babe, got us the booze,” Zuko slips into his _douche_ accent, before holding a near suffocating grip on her waist. She smiles, terse. Katara sometimes hates his _Lee_ alter ego, but he looks like he’s having fun. They’ve even made a whole backstory, adding on to it every time he has to go into _Lee mode_ whenever Katara needs an escape. An egomaniac with rich parents, belongs to a fraternity, and has a habit for getting girls pregnant after the first date, but he’s a family guy underneath it all, and writes essays for college students on the weekends to pay his copious child support. 

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” She plants a peck on his cheek, and he sends a salacious wink the stranger’s way. It was her fault, really. Insisting on heading to a local bar before the raid, in the name of feeling normalcy for the night. When everyone’s too fucking drunk to realize the Fire Lord is sitting among them, even throwing gold coins in the betting pool during an arm wrestling match. 

“You whore!” The guy dares utter out, ego bruised, balls blue. 

Katara sticks her tongue out, before ripping herself out of Zuko’s hold. 

“Oh dammit, her eyebrows are going to do _the thing_ again,” Zuko grumbles, scared. 

“Say it again. I dare you. Do it before I dice up your 5 inch long nipples! That’s right, no matter how many shirts you wear, I could still see those baby carrots poking through!” She’s nose to nose with the guy, he’s cowering despite her petite form. “What’s bigger, those saucer sized areolas, or your fucking _micropenis_!” Katara screams at the top of her lungs. “You piece of—” 

“Ok, _babe_ , let’s slow your roll there,” Zuko mutters, pulling Katara by her waist down to the stool. She slaps at his arm rapidly in succession, before completely sitting still. Zuko doesn’t miss the guy’s scream. 

“I think my penis froze!” He pants out, before collapsing. 

“Oops.”

Zuko’s afraid to lift his gaze from his shot glass. 

//

He sheathed his swords back into their place, the case on his back a welcome weight. The litter of guards were moaning, some crawling away in defeat if they weren’t already incapacitated. Fuck, did he miss doing this. Even if his hot breath under the blue mask did smell like dragon jizz. He forgot about that. But he still missed it, nonetheless. 

“Whatcha doing?” He asks, an inflection in his tone that makes his voice all squeaky and cute, just to annoy Katara. He only ever got this way when alcohol wormed its way through his body. He misses it, misses feeling irresponsible. When days didn’t blur together, when life was more than paperwork and keeping up appearances. When he _wanted_ to smile. 

“Oh. You know. Getting back in the groove.” Zuko quirks an eyebrow up at seeing the company’s executives slowly asphyxiating at the hands of Katara’s water whip’s tight grasp. The guy is floating, and he sees at least five other members of the company’s board of executives also being painfully restrained by the grips of the water chains. She’s sitting on the bridge, fully The Painted Lady for the night. Swaying her feet back and forth, as though she was pleasantly watching the sunset, and not violently punishing the people floating above her. Her smile is sweet, throat achingly so. 

“Cool, cool.” He joins her at the edge of the bridge, planting himself down right beside her. The all black get up feels looser, Katara frets when she notices. Doesn’t say anything, of course. But makes a mental note to ask Iroh to keep an eye on his eating habits, when he’s stressed and in _one of those moods_. 

Katara’s convinced he likes it, likes fighting and being in the field again. Because when it came to reality, he could only try to take down these companies months after paperwork, legislation, and shit on shit on shit gets approved. By then, they’ve illegally dumped all their shit, and will invest their funds in a seaside condo. No fucking chance was Katara letting that happen. He will never admit it, at least on record, but he likes Katara’s hands on approach much more. 

She’s elated, the happiest he’s seen her in a while. She only ever comes to visit him when she’s about to violently hurt someone from the Fire Nation. He tries to visit her when he can, but even then when he’s at the Southern Water Tribe, she’s always flitting about, too busy to spare him a glance, too tired to talk at night. He still tries on his off days, one in a blue moon. Being around her, watching her in her element was enough to comfort him. “I never saw my life going down this path.” 

Zuko scoffs. “What, being the Fire Nation’s most wanted evil villain?” 

“I don’t know what’s so evil about caring about the environment. But yeah.” She ponders the idea. “There’s people that wanted me to travel the world with Aang and pop out a few kids, people that wanted me to marry _you_ , and it’s all what everyone fucking wants. I don’t think anyone’s ever really wondered, ‘what the fuck does Katara want?’ The worst part? I wouldn’t know how to answer, if anyone asked. I don’t know what I want anymore.” 

“Do you miss them?” Zuko poses the question, his voice soothing in the dark of night. 

“Yeah.” She pauses, stopping herself before she could speak again. As though she’s calculating the words. “I feel like...like I ran away. Like I turned my back on my people.” Her face hardens. “I feel dumb. Like a failure.” 

Zuko lays back, the feeling of the cold wood pressing through his suit. “You are _not_ dumb. You are _not_ a failure. You just needed a break. It’s only been two months.” 

Her gaze softens. Zuko’s not sure if he’s imagining the sigh of relief one of the guys breathes out, when her grip on the water restraints falters the slightest. “Sometimes, fuck. Sometimes I feel like...like I’m not doing enough. And I feel angry, too. You know? Sometimes I feel angry I never got to go to dances, to parties, to be a fucking kid. To have my dad around. To worry about what a guy like _Lee_ thinks of my nail color, instead of learning to write legislation.” He hears splashing when Katara repeatedly slams an executive into the water, dunking him back and forth. “I’m responsible for so many people now! And I know, I know I should love it. But sometimes...I know this sounds bad. I want to just be _me_. And The Painted Lady gets to focus on herself. Focus on her own goals.” 

Katara’s main goal for the last few years was rebuilding the Southern Water Tribe. In the years since the war, she’s been working nonstop for her people. The home she loves. She’s working to build more schools, homes, recording the history of her people to reverse the damage, the genocide the Fire Nation had inflicted. To match up to the magnificence of the Northern Tribe, their own way, their own style. She’s playing nearly every role imaginable—diplomat, strategist, writer, teacher, healer. She’s proud, she wants her people’s legacy to go down in history. But sometimes, she’s fucking _tired_. When the rumor mill (Sokka) casually mentioned the Council of Elders were seriously considering her for the role of Chief in the coming years, she freaked. 

She didn’t even know she was capable of having this Grade A level meltdown, but she did. Nearly freezing everything in her room, she left a note about “finding the meat of mental stability,” before disappearing with face paint. She gave an estimated month. There wasn’t much to be done, with the economy and government relatively stable, and she’s sure she had her vacation days saved up. The note Sokka sends via June reassures her, when he and the Council of Elders insisted on an additional month. 

The air is cold when Zuko huffs, his breath visible. “I hear you. Before Iroh said I was going to be Fire Lord, I always imagined myself travelling the world via Ostrich Horse. Just me and my swords. Writing a sequel to _Love Amongst the Dragons_ , you know doing the world a favor. But I’m here, doing my thing.” He watches in silence as another executive is flung precariously around, bouncing between waterfalls Katara conjures. “Do you think your life would have been better, just being The Painted Lady? Disappearing after the war?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe. I could just focus on myself and my own goals, like _punishing the board of bitches for polluting this river with toxic waste_!” Katara grits out, tightening the water’s control. He hears gurgles from the executives’ purpling throats. 

He’s smirking. “So putting Aang, me, The Painted Lady aside. Putting all of what we want to the side. What is it that _Katara_ wants? Because I know, she knows what she wants. Even if she’s scared.” 

“I’m not scared!” Katara tries admitting. She bristles under his knowing stare. “Fine. _I’m scared_. Sometimes, I worry. That I’m not a good person. I fuck things up. I feel dumb more times than not. I don’t know what I’m doing sometimes, most times. And people our age, they get to make mistakes, and be stupid, and fuck up. Not us, though.” 

“Yeah.” He pauses. “Not us. But the thing is, sometimes, no matter how bad it gets, I’m glad it’s us. Trying to fix everything. You have people who love you, people who care about you. No matter what happens. People who will help you with your goals, if you let them. So you don’t have to disappear for months at a time and try to nearly destroy the whole Fire Nation to cope.” 

She feels chastised. “I’m not trying to!” 

Zuko throws his hands up in defense. “I wouldn’t stop you if you were.” He peers at the executives and their collapsing esophagi. “Can I do one?” 

Katara’s beaming. “Sure.” She lowers a guy to Zuko’s level, who promptly engulfs the man in a tunnel of flames so powerful, the air sends him lurching back out of their eyesight’s range. 

He pulls out a joint from his pocket, a “medicinal” trick he’s learned from Iroh in the last year. “What?” he asks in response to Katara’s questioning look. “The Fire Lord can’t get a little loud?” He singes the tip with a minute flame coming from his pinky, breathing in the smoke when it’s properly lit. 

“I cannot believe I just shit my feelings, and now I have to watch the Fire Lord get crossed. Oh god this is so embarrassing. I am such an oversharing _whore_!” Katara screams out. 

“You’re my favorite oversharer, if it makes you feel any better.” 

“It doesn’t,” she deadpans. 

Zuko takes a long drag from the joint. “Worth a shot,” he murmurs before blowing the smoke in her face. 

“Spirits! I will melt your dick into palatable cheese and feed it to an armadillo lion if you do that again!” Katara screeches. He thinks she screeches at an even higher pitch when he pulls her into a hug. 

She aquises, flinging the board of executives as far as the water whips were capable of, before leaning into his hug. She thinks the screams and the explosion of a burning factory was the perfect backdrop for any friendship’s reunion.

Zuko chuckles. “Can’t wait for more paperwork to burn.” 

“Reparations, if you will.” 

“Hey.” 

“What?” Katara responds, looking up to Zuko. 

“I’ve missed you,” he admits quietly. 

She buries her body deeper against his. “Missed you more.” 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> how are yall doing?? I'm honestly a mess and I am trying to find motivation to not be dumb but alas I am dumb and tired all the time!! 
> 
> anyways side note !! even tho I will always be the most annoying zuko/katara supporter in the world I truly think she should've ended up alone and zuko b her side piece !! I usually write modern!aus bc writing about the implications of imperialism is...a lot and as a WOC who has been directly impacted by genocide of my people, I just don't see them getting married or getting together in canon! esp when his people are directly responsible for the destruction of her community 
> 
> this is a little different than what I usually write but I hope you enjoyed!! <3


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